


Hurt

by crow821



Category: Logan 2017
Genre: Angst, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 03:15:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10234607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crow821/pseuds/crow821
Summary: Un-betaed Angst. I had to deal with this movie somehow.





	

     

 

There are some days, the really bad days, when Logan thinks it would be easier to just end it.  
  
Days when the pain gets so bad not even the booze helps. Days when he can feel every wound he’s ever taken, all coming back to him when he’s too worn out to put up a fight. Days where he’s so tired he could sleep for a week, if every time he tried he wasn’t jolted back awake by nightmares of blood and metal and screams only he hears.   
  
Days where he doesn’t make enough to cover Charles’s meds. When the old man gets so lost in that brilliant, broken mind of his that he looses his sense of reality completely. He doesn‘t know where he is, or who Logan is, and demands again and again to know what Logan has done to the others. In his weakest moments Logan wants to tell him, just to have someone else to share the guilt of being the very last left behind.  
  
On the worst days Logan drinks until he runs out of liquor, and then collapses on his sorry excuse for a bed, sending up a cloud of dust that tints everything red. Fumbles in his pockets and pulls out the only two things he’s kept from his old life. One is a bullet, made of the same shit that’s killing him, but promising a much quicker end. He’s been executed before, but with this one he knows it would stick.   
  
The other is a dead mans rosary, the shine all but rubbed off of the beads and the cord clumsily retied where it’s frayed. He doesn’t use them to pray, doesn’t believe anyone up there would listen to the likes of him. But there was a time a much better man than he prayed for him, and told him (with a certainty he’s never felt himself) that even he could be forgiven.   
  
He clutches both in shaking fingers and closes his eyes, trying to call up that voice, and those words, and just the smallest shred of faith. Faith that maybe if he can keep Charles going just one more day, keep just that tiniest spark of good in this Godforsaken world alive, he can be forgiven. He and Charles both.   
  
He closes his eyes, and waits for morning, and when the new day comes he is still there.


End file.
